


dibs

by PaintedVanilla



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, Bullying, Gen, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Mild Blood, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: Thomas gives him the wet wipes and James opens the package, checking his progress in wiping his face clean in the side mirror through the window. Thomas bounces his leg watching him for a moment, then says, “You know maybe we should date, so getting our asses kicked is worth something.”





	dibs

Andrew Burke, the principal at Conway High School, checks his watch then looks back at the five boys sitting in front of him, all juniors. They’re split in the middle, obviously not wanting to be near one another. On one side, Jack Shaw, a soccer player; Michael Morrison, a teaching assistant in chemistry; and Dick Reid, who gives them both rides home every day. On the other side, James Madison and Thomas Jefferson, who both look terrible. James and Morrison are both holding tissue to their faces, trying to control the remnants of a bloody nose. Thomas is torn between cradling his hand, which is searing with pain, and concerning himself with his eye, which is no doubt going to bruise.

The trio of boys show evidence of definitely having been in a fight, but James and Thomas look worse for wear.

“Can you explain to me what you five are doing in my office at almost six o’clock?” Burke asks.

“Yeah, we got the shit beat out of us.” Thomas says bluntly, no longer in the mood for formalities.

Burke looks at him menacingly, “Language.” he snaps, and Thomas grumbles.

“Would you care to be more specific?” Burke continues, “Ms. Rowan found the lot of you in the breezeway just behind the gym in quite a scuffle.”

“They were looking for a fight.” Shaw says, “They jumped us.”

“That’s not true!” Thomas snaps, “why would we go looking for a fight!? We were walking to my car!”

“Can I ask why you were at school so late in the first place?” Burke asks.

“They were watching their gay cartoons in Mrs. Ramirez's class.” Reid says.

“They’re not gay!” Thomas snaps, “And they’re called anime! There’s a difference!” He adds, fervently, which makes them snicker. Thomas looks at the principal, “You know I’m the president of a club.” He says.

“A club about cartoons?” Burke asks, his eyebrows raised, and Thomas grits his teeth.

“We were walking to my car,” Thomas says bitterly, “and _they_ jumped _us.”_

“Why would they do that?” Burke asks, his tone a bit taunting.

“Because,” Thomas hesitates, “because they _think_ we’re gay.” He says, which causes another wave of snickering from the group of boys; Thomas glares at them.

“Are you gay?” Burke asks.

“No!” Thomas says quickly, “And either way, if _I_ was running a school, I would be concerned that two students sitting in front of you clearly got their asses kicked! Not what their sexualities were!”

“Language!” Burke snaps, louder this time, and Thomas flinches back into his chair. Burke frowns at him, then says, “In front of me I see five students who were clearly in a fight. That will be one week of suspension for each of you - ”

“That’s not fair!” Thomas cries, protesting the loudest out of all of them, “Clearly they did more fucking damage!”

“You need to hold your tongue, Mr. Jefferson!” Burke snaps back, his voice louder than Thomas’, who sinks down into his chair, “Would you like to make it two weeks?”

“I would love to.” Thomas says bitterly, “I’ll take James’ week; he didn’t do anything.”

James glances up at him from where he’s folded into his chair, but he doesn’t say anything on account of the blister on his lip.

“You will get your weeks, and Mr. Madison will get his.” Burke says, making a note on the pad on his desk.

“James didn’t even do anything!” Thomas argues, “I punched Reid in the face! They just shoved James on the ground and kicked him in the dick!”

“As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Jefferson, I have the authority in this office, and you were _all_ in a fight!” Burke snaps, and Thomas folds back in on himself, scowling. Burke finishes making his note and rips the piece of paper off.

“I expect you all know how to find your way out.” Burke says sternly, “Be on your way. You've kept me late enough, as it is.”

Outside in the main office, Shaw shoves James right as he reaches the door, and he hits the handle with his face, restarting his nose bleed; Morrison and Reid both laugh, and Shaw sneers, “Fucking faggot.”

“He’s not - ” Thomas starts to say angrily, but Reid pushes him against the door roughly.

“Defending your boyfriend again, Jefferson?” he asks; he’s shorter than Thomas, but he’s much stronger.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Thomas says.

“Aw, James, the only person who’s ever going to love you doesn’t want to admit it!” Morrison says, “Must feel terrible knowing nobody is ever going to care about you.”

James winces when they walk past him through the door, but they don’t do anything else. Once they’re out in the parking lot, Thomas leans down to help him up.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asks, which is rhetorical; James’ face is covered in dried blood from his first nosebleed and soaked in blood from his current one.

Thomas takes off his hoodie and hands it to him, “Here.” He says.

“You’re making us look gayer.” James sobs.

“Well, I’m not going to let you bleed to death in the office.” Thomas says, forcing James to take his hoodie and press it to his face, trying to stop the bleeding.

“I would love to.” James says, his voice muffled.

They walk to Thomas’ car in complete silence; James has the hoodie pressed to his face and his lip is still busted. Thomas wishes he could think of something to say; usually he has something to make light of the situation, but there's nothing.

James curls in on himself once he’s in the passenger seat and buries his face in Thomas’ hoodie. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Thomas stops at the convenience store they were planning on stopping at before they got held up at school; James doesn’t look up when they stop or when the car turns off or when Thomas says, “I’ll be right back.”

He feels vaguely suffocated with his face buried in the hoodie, and he knows he has to stop soon because he’s going to give himself an asthma attack, but he doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection in the window or at how much blood he probably got all over Thomas’ purple hoodie, he just wants to sit in the dark and not think about anything. But of course, in the dark, there’s nothing to distract himself from everything.

His back stings, no doubt covered in scratches from when he got shoved onto the ground, but at least his dick doesn’t hurt anymore. James isn’t sure what’s more embarrassing: getting his ass kicked because people think he’s gay, or the noises he made while it was happening. The more he thinks about it, the further into humiliation he sinks. He wishes they’d beat him to death; that way he wouldn’t have to go back to school.

James finally lifts his head when Thomas opens the door again, climbing back into the car. There’s still dried blood on his face. Thomas sets a plastic bag on the consol, “You didn’t lock the door.” He observes.

“Was hoping someone would break into the car and shank me.” James says bitterly.

“Stab you? With a knife?” Thomas asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“Shank’s are knives made in prison.”

“Good. I hope it’s rusty and covered in bacteria and STD’s so I can die faster.”

Thomas sighs, “Probably the only way I’d ever catch an STD.”

“You want an STD?” James asks.

“To prove I got laid, maybe.” Thomas says; he reaches into the plastic bag and pulls out a pint of dibs, “I got you these.”

James gives him a look, “Those have peanuts in them.”

“Actually, the container says they _may_ contain nuts.” Thomas points out, “And we both have an epipen in our backpacks. And you probably need to go to the hospital, anyways.”

“If these have nuts in them, don’t save my life.” James says, taking the pint and pulling the top off, “Push me out of the car and let me die in the parking lot.”

“Ha.” Thomas says dryly; he pulls his own pint of dibs out of the bag and opens it, “I should be putting this on my eye.” he says vaguely, then, “ _God_ , my hand fucking _hurts.”_ he sets the pint between his knees so he doesn’t have to hold them, and uses his hand that isn’t sore to eat them.

“Should you be driving?” James asks vaguely.

“I’m sure if we got pulled over and we both looked like shit and you only had a permit to show for it, we would be very well off.” Thomas says; he glances at James, “Are you having an allergic reaction?” He asks, ready to reach into his bag and grab James’ epipen.

“No.” James says, “I - I don’t think so. It’s just hard to eat with a busted lip.”

Thomas hums, and they sit in silence until they both finish their dibs. “I also bought wet wipes.” Thomas says as he puts his empty pint away and pulls out the package of wipes, “You know, to take care of,” he gestures to James’ face, “that.”

“Wet wipes aren’t going to make me any less ugly.” James says flatly.

Thomas rolls his eyes, “You’re not ugly.” he says, “And I’m thinking walking into your house with a face covered in blood wouldn’t make your mom very happy.”

“No please, I would love to traumatize Sarah.” James says, referring to his youngest sibling (at the moment).

Thomas gives him the wet wipes and James opens the package, checking his progress in wiping his face clean in the side mirror through the window. Thomas bounces his leg watching him for a moment, then says, “You know maybe we _should_ date, so getting our asses kicked is worth something.”

James grunts, “I’m not really looking to get killed when I get caught kissing you, because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Fair point.” Thomas says; worth a shot.

“Well, actually, I mean, I would love to die.” James says thoughtfully, “but you’d probably get killed, too. And you have like, people who care about you.”

“Your mom would care if you died.” Thomas says.

James doesn’t say anything, he just finishes wiping the dried blood off his face. He drops the wipe in the empty pint of dibs then drops them back into the plastic bag, “I hate myself.” he remarks casually.

“You’re in a particularly self deprecating mood tonight.” Thomas says, starting the car.

“When am I not.” James mutters.

“Well, tonight especially.”

“I just got my ass kicked for being gay.”

Thomas looks at him, “You’re a little gay.”

“So I want to get my ass kicked?” James snaps, “You got beat up, too, why are you in such a good mood.”

“I’m really not.” Thomas says, “I think I broke my thumb. And my dad is gonna be like, _Thomas, you didn’t throw the punch right_ , because when I punched Morrison I’m pretty sure I tucked my thumb into my fist but I don’t really remember, but now my whole hand hurts _especially_ my thumb so I’m pretty sure it’s broken, and I can barely see out of this eye. And everything hurts.” he looks at James, “This is the hand I masturbate with, James.”

“Okay, that’s disgusting.” James says, “Forgetting you said that.”

“I’ll just say it again.” Thomas insists.

“You’re gross.” James says, hiding his face in the hoodie again, “You’re the grossest human being in the world and I hate that you’re my best friend.”

James looks back up at him and Thomas smiles; James winces, “I think you chipped a tooth.”

Thomas checks in the rear view mirror, “Maybe my mom won’t notice.”


End file.
